


i see you shining your way

by emotikons



Category: iKON (Kpop)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 18:33:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2783435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emotikons/pseuds/emotikons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>space makes everything better. <a href="http://emotikons.livejournal.com/1174.html">livejournal mirror</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i see you shining your way

On paper, the YG Syndicate's regulations expressly stipulate that all starship upgrades and repairs must go through official avenues. _To make sure the tech is legit_ , Jiyong explained, when Hanbin was coming up through the Academy and didn't know any better. That was before Hanbin accidentally flew his ship into a Federation blockade for the first time and had to pay a literal arm and leg to repair his hull. Not his own arm and leg, of course; the arm and leg of a prenatal kaiju carcass floating off Tempora X, salvaged from the remnants of its unhatched egg during the last job he pulled, which would've pumped enough credits in his bank account to increase the balance tenfold. Total ripoff, but Hanbin needed a ship to survive, after all, and it'd been his only recourse at the time. Or so he thought.

These days, Hanbin can't care less if the repairman is regulation or not, so long as his ship comes out of it in working order. It helps, of course, that Jinhwan's the best mechanic in the business.

Which says absolutely jackshit about his working habits, because he's apparently sound asleep in the back of the shop when Hanbin manages to steer himself through the seedier outskirts of New Seoul and crash-lands in front of the hangar. A new technician Hanbin doesn't recognize, dressed in dirty overalls and a backwards baseball cap, sends him a toothy smile and hooks the ship up to the electrical loops of one of Jinhwan's maglev repair set-ups. When he leans over to inspect the hull, Hanbin catches a quick flash down the low neck of his overalls, down to the supple, even grooves of his abdomen, and nearly misses it when the technician says that Jinhwan would be out in a moment.

"I can't believe the authorities suspended my license over disappearing a stupid dog," Jinhwan mutters a couple minutes later, sliding through the door, a streak of motor oil decorating his chin. He yawns and leans in to study the port side of Hanbin's ship with a critical eye, runs a hand over the hull. "You'd think the Federation needed more working engineers than some prize beagle, you know?"

"I do," Hanbin says bracingly. "You only mention it every time I'm here. As if I could help you at all."

Jinhwan snorts. "You're the Syndicate's best damn pilot, and sajangnim's golden boy. Surely you could do _something_." Then, after blinking the last wisps of bleariness out of his eyes: "Hell, Hanbin. What did you to this poor ship?"

"Do I pay you to ask questions?" he asks without rancor.

"Ha-ha. You barely pay me anything at all." Jinhwan reaches for the wrench on his worktable and knocks it against the windshield. "Think about it this way. What if you neglected to tell me about a broken gear-spring in the extension mechanism and tried to fly this thing back out there? Or do you _want_ to drop like a stone after you hit, oh, five hundred feet—because the goddamn wings won't go out all the way?"

"Fine." Hanbin fiddles with the cuff of his sleeve and sighs, starts counting off on his fingers. "The navigation system totally gave out halfway between Jupiter and Saturn. Luckily I've been here often enough, and managed to find my way. And I have no idea what's going on in the combustion chamber. I don't know how the hull avoided the damage but thank God for small miracles, I guess. It's the whole bottom of the ship that's the problem."

Jinhwan flips a couple of levers and switches the maglev control panel on. With a tremendous groan, spindly arms attached to Hanbin's ship start tilting it over, an inch at a time. Jinhwan mutters a soft expletive as the belly slowly comes into view. "How did you not fall out the bottom on the way here?"

Hanbin just folds his arms across his chest. "Can you fix it?"

"It'll cost you."

"How much?"

"At least a hundred credits for the navigation system reboot alone."

"Come _on_ , Jinhwan. _Hyung_."

"Oh, please, don't try that," Jinhwan says, but his eyes are twinkling. "Spare parts don't exactly grow on trees, especially for someone whose license has been suspended for the past two years. And you know the Federation would charge you five hundred for the navigation system, easy."

Hanbin grunts, mulish. "That's—true. But then, I'd have guaranteed quality."

"That hurts," Jinhwan returns, shaking his head. "Have I ever let you down?" He sees the look on Hanbin's face at that and grins a little. "Alright, alright—stupid question. But you trust me, don't you?"

"Against my better judgment," Hanbin says at last, and rolls his eyes when Jinhwan nudges his side with a sharp elbow.

"Bobby!" Jinhwan calls, stroking the smooth dip of the ship's cracked hull.

The technician from earlier saunters back into the hangar. His grin is toothier than ever. "What's up?"

Jinhwan tosses a wrench at him. "Get on it."

Hanbin frowns. "You aren't _seriously_ going to outsource this—"

"Bobby's a prodigy," Jinhwan cuts in before he can finish the thought. "He knows what he's doing. Plus, I'll be around the whole time, so everything will be fine."

Hanbin's considering just taking the ship back to Syndicate headquarters and paying all the exorbitant fees there, but Bobby's already clanging around in the mangled belly of his ship. Jinhwan's probably managed to charge his bank account by now, anyway, damn him. "Fine," he says. "But I'm staying."

Jinhwan just sighs, like he'd been expecting it—but then, it's not like he doesn't know that the _IKON_ is all Hanbin really has. "Suit yourself."

✧

Bobby wipes a bead of sweat off his forehead and scoots out from beneath the newly repaired belly of the ship. When he's done checking that all the engines are in working order, he throws a look over at Hanbin. The pilot's dozed off fitfully in a tiny cot next to the worktable, after watching him like a hawk for three hours. The top two buttons of his crumpled dress shirt have popped open, revealing a pale triangle of skin slowly rising and falling with every even breath. Bobby swallows and looks away. "He always this uptight?"

Jinhwan grunts. He hops off his stool and hands Bobby the last artificial gravity coil. "You of all people should understand," he says, over the sound of the minor army of robot mechanics working on welding in the new hull. "It's his ship. Of course he's going to be protective."

Bobby hums, wrestling the coil in between the coolant and warp propellant. "The nav's okay?"

"Perfect."

"Well, then. We're done here."

Jinhwan almost tips over helping Bobby up. When he straightens, there's a strange spark in his eye. "Take it for a test run."

Bobby's brows go up. "You want me to go on a joyride? What if he wakes up?"

"Has that ever stopped you before?" Bobby sends him an unimpressed look. "Hey, you don't have to, unless you want him to fly off and crash because the robots forgot to screw something in properly. Choice is yours."

The corner of Bobby's mouth jumps. "So I'm the guinea pig."

Jinhwan laughs, giving his shoulder a little nudge. "Please. I know you've been itching to fly since you got here."

Bobby shrugs, He isn't really one to look a gift horse in the mouth, even if a hot, anal retentive Syndicate bounty hunter was involved. He climbs into the cockpit. It smells like sweat and dirt and, faintly, instant chicken soup packets. The thick glass slots snug over his head.

And _damn_ if Jinhwan isn't right—Bobby's chest tightens a little as he guns the engine, stomach clenching with the early anticipation of lift. He holds his breath when the ship rumbles to life underneath him, control panel lighting up beneath his hands, all systems go. Aircraft takes to the sky smooth as a bird, flipping a little curlicue around an errant silver cumulus cloud at a swipe of Bobby's finger. He does another couple of tricks, letting himself spin effortlessly through the air, until it feels like the ship is an extension of his body, another limb to control, the power at his fingertips taking him higher. A giddy laugh leaps out of his mouth.

He jumps when an incoming call pings on his communications screen. "Hey," Jinhwan says, sounding amused, when Bobby accepts. "Time to come back down to earth."

✧

Hanbin's standing rigid at the mouth of the hangar when Bobby brings the ship to an elegant stop on the lawn, dirt clods turning up as the wheels skid. "What was that about?" he asks, glancing from Jinhwan to Bobby and back again, arms folded tight against his chest. The severe look on his face is kind of offset by the wrench indent etched into the skin of his cheek and the way his hair's stuck flat against the right side of his head.

Bobby hops out of the cockpit and gives the hull a quick pat. "It's a good ship," he says neutrally, at the same Jinhwan announces, "I'm sending him with you."

"What?" Hanbin says, eyes narrow. "I don't need a babysitter."

Bobby sends Jinhwan a sideways glance. "Sure that's a good idea?"

Jinhwan rolls his eyes. "Hanbin, you saw how he flew this thing. You know he's good enough."

"I—but—"

"Considering how often you see me, you obviously need someone who can patch your ship together with you at all times. No point coming all the way here every three months, and there's no one better than Bobby." He coughs, delicately. "Well, besides me. But I can't leave the shop."

"I don't even know anything about this guy," Hanbin protests, but Bobby can see him giving him a serious once-over, assessing eyes taking in the dirt beneath his nails, the grime all over his clothing.

Bobby sighs and turns toward Jinhwan, biting his lip. "What about you?" he asks. "Can't just leave you here alone."

Jinhwan gives his shoulder a fond rub. "I appreciate the thought, but I know you'd rather be out there than stuck on this godforsaken planet." Jinhwan squints slyly at Hanbin. "By the way, did I tell you? I found this kid running from a bunch of JYP's ground-side mob guys because he'd stolen the boss's plastic pants for fun."

Hanbin's jaw drops a little before he visibly pulls himself together. "I'd heard about that," he says, voice level. "Thought it was just a rumor. I mean, who has plastic pants?"

"I'm just saying. You could use him."

Hanbin still looks dubious. Bobby straightens, thumb flipping against the rim of his snapback to bring it around to the front, shoved over his brow, and gracefully decides to swallow his pride. "I'd, uh. Really like to join you, if you'll have me."

Hanbin stares at the hand Bobby sticks out. After a moment, he raises his own arm and shakes it. His palm is warm, the handshake firm. "I'd be glad to," he says. "God knows I could use the help with the ship, anyway."

"Now get off my lawn," Jinhwan says lazily, sliding a hand through his hair.

"Ah," Hanbin says, wheeling around. "About payment—"

"Took it out of your bank account already," Jinhwan says, wiggling his fingers, eyes curving. Hanbin sighs loudly. Bobby laughs, high and clear.

✧

Bobby, as it turns out, doesn't have much in the way of material possessions. Figures, given that it seems he's pretty used to a life on the run. All his belongings fit in a flimsy cardboard box, carried over the threshold of the cargo bay in the back of Hanbin's ship, so aside from Bobby's physical person, there isn't much clutter to add that isn't already there. More interesting is the way Bobby devours the insides of Hanbin's ship with wide eyes, like a wandering man in the desert suddenly presented with a stunning array of drink, and Hanbin feels himself smiling, genuinely, for the first time in a while. He doesn't exactly trust this new passenger yet. He may not for a while, but he trusts Jinhwan, and for now, it's enough. Bobby turns, mouth stretched wide in a silly grin, and flops over on a metal chair, hip colliding hard with the sharp edge of the arm rest. Makes himself right at home, like he was always meant to be there. It feels like the start of something. 


End file.
